Alone is Forever
by nekomata25
Summary: It's a strange world, not quite right, and there are no people. It never changes, ever. Doesn't matter though; what else can I do? Maybe someday something interesting will happen. Inspired by Mob Talker. Rated M for language, violence, and some later intimacy.
1. Intro

**Feel free to skip all of this!**

**Forever is Alone**

©Nekomata 2013

Minecraft and all references thereof belong to Mojang Studios. All aspects of the Feed the Beast modpack belong to their respective owners. There story and the characters are my own, though some inspiration was drawn from the Mob Talker mod, and any similarities to other works or people are coincidental.

**Preface**

My old story is dead, and is being re-written. Sorry, but I changed a character and the entire plot stopped making sense. I also started playing FTB around the same time, so I just decided to completely rewrite the damn thing. So yeah, I'm going to try to write a novel. I can't guarantee how often I'll post new chapters since I don't have much time to write. The story is set in my FTB LAN server, and I'll be using _some_ elements of that pack, especially ThaumCraft. **Note**: This is story is going to be _highly_ sexually themed because, well, I love writing erotica, and you couldn't keep these characters off of each other with dynamite. I haven't decided if the sex scenes are going to make it to FF yet. So if some of the chapters are only a paragraph long… yeah. I may post the "unrated" version on my old blog. We'll see. So, to quote a famous Knight from yet another world, "Alright, let's do this!" I hope everyone enjoys reading.

**About me**

In case anyone wanted to know, I'm 27, and have been writing for more then 15 years actually. I abandoned the hobby some years ago after hitting a rough spot in my life. I regret it though. I truly love to write, and working on this story feels great. This is my second account on FF, but those old stories are _terrible_, and I just want to distance myself from them. I've got backups anyway. I can usually be found under the name Nekomata, and if you look me up on Wolf's Shipyard you can see my Star Trek "artwork." I also go by Neko or Jc, and occasionally Kari. (Don't ask.) I may eventually post my personal Trek reboot, but that's a long way off.

"**There's a saying in my world, 'diamonds are forever.' Well, here everything is forever." – Keith Sheridan, date unknown.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Note: This is unedited, but I'm posting early to make up for how long its been since an update.**

Keith groaned at the brightness of the light as it hit his eyelids. He grumbled at himself, and threw his covers off. The cold air from the glacial valley hit his sweat moistened skin and sent shivers across his body. He needed a bed that wasn't made out of leather. He needed blankets that weren't made out of leather. At least his pillow was made out of the cotton shirt he had been wearing when he came here.

_You would think that since I built my house myself, I wouldn't have put my bed near the fucking window._

He groaned again and rubbed his eyes. He had the same thought every morning for years now, but never bothered to actually move the damned bed for whatever reason. He got up and moved to look out the window. It was gave an amazing view of the massive glacier he'd built his house under, but he'd long since tired of looking at it. What did catch his eye was the massive brown spider sitting right in the middle of his back yard.

_God dammit._

Keith shook his head and sighed; he was so fucking sick of those things climbing his fence. Nothing he tried could keep them out. He yanked on his pants, also made of leather, and headed for the stairs to his workshop. There he grabbed his "pokin' stick," a ten foot long pole he kept handy for whatever he might need it for, like pissing off zombies.

All the undead had already burned off in the morning light though. He always wondered where they kept coming from if they all caught fire come daybreak. It didn't really matter though, the fence kept everything out, except for _giant fucking spiders._

The thing had flattened itself out in his yard. It looked a lot like a wolf spider, with brown hair and black markings, but its body was three _feet_ long. With its legs spread like it was it was actually bigger then he was. At least it wasn't a recluse; otherwise he'd been dead long ago.

The spider didn't move as he approached it, the things were actually pretty docile during the day, but he didn't want it anywhere near his house. Keith took up his pole at its full lenth, and whapped the thing on the head. It reared up immediately, baring fangs as long as his forearm. It was a sight that would have sent a few of his old friends into a coma. He jabbed it in the face again.

_Come on, get out of here you fucker._

He jabbed at it a couple of more times before it finally relented. Keith followed it as it crawled back over his fence and slowly disappeared into the woods. He shook his head. He really needed to get rid of those trees. They where a heaven for undead hiding from the sunlight, and he'd already deforested the rest of the valley to build his house and fence. But eh, it could wait. He had all the time in the world after all; he'd get to it when he felt like it.

As he turned to head back to the house he saw another friendly native sitting on the other side of his fence, a creeper. It was an ugly creature, like a leaf covered post atop four stubby legs, kind of phallic looking actually. Looking at it gave him a chill though. It had a face, similar to a human but twisted and distorted. Their eye sockets where empty and black, and they always wore an expression contorted in absolute horror. Thinking about what a person would have to seen to have their face permanently burned in that look still gave him nightmares. Something very bad had happened to this world; he could feel it.

He shook himself. Creepers were not human, not any stretch he could figure. Well, unless one counted suicide bombers, but that's exactly what creepers were. You get close to one it exploded. He'd lost more fences that way… He was well out of the way of this one though, so he took his pole and jabbed it in the face as well. Why not? The cockleaf hissed loudly, but nothing else. He'd worked out their trigger radius at about six feet, and since ol' pokey was longer then that he could safely jab at it all day if he wanted.

There were better things to be doing though, so he left it alone. It would either wander off of its own accord later, or he'd come back with his bow and do some real poking. He swung around the front yard real quick to make sure nothing had gotten into his pool. He would have to check the roof for spiders at some point too, but for now out of sight out of mind.

Keith returned the pole to the workshop and went back upstairs to his "kitchen" for breakfast. It wasn't really a kitchen though, since the actual stove was in the workshop far away from anything wood. The room was just a small partition with a table and chair, and some shelves where he stored cooked food. He organized his food in decent portions in little wood boxes he'd modeled off something he'd seen in Japanese anime, and kept them up here, since nothing ever seemed to spoil for whatever reason.

He grabbed one of the trays and a jar of milk, thank god for glass blowing, and sat down to eat. Pork with corn and some bread, again. He didn't really have much choice in food though. The only animals he could find where pigs, cows, and chickens. He'd at least managed to find a decent variety of edible plants though, watermelon his favorite among them.

Keith finished off the meal quickly, wanting to get the day's work started. He was sure he had plenty to be doing, though he couldn't think of anything off the top of his head. He returned to his room, throwing on a shirt and his boots to complete his pants and headed back down to the workshop.

It was a hell of thing if he did say so himself. He had managed to build a massive array of metal working tools over the years. He had even managed to set up an actual forge, complete with a copper anvil. The copper was too soft for some of the materials he was working with though, and it wouldn't be useable much longer. He was pretty sure he'd worked out the proper heat treatments to make a new one with a hardened steel face however.

That wouldn't be today though, he was sure he could actually lift that much iron without some sort of pulley system that he didn't want to think about. He went about the room, checking his equipment and supplies. Everything looked in good order. All his tools were well maintained; after all, they didn't age and he hadn't been doing any metal work lately.

A quick check of his stockpiles showed he had plenty of raw materials left. Though, he did tend to recycle anything that broke, just so he wouldn't have to spend time in that damned underground ravine. He hated caves. He was short of lumber on the other hand. Clearing the rest of the forest might be a good idea, but then again he was actually using the wood for anything at the moment. He didn't plan on expanding the house since there was no need for it, and the tools weren't being used. Well, he might need to make more paper for his notebook. He reminded himself to check later.

Keith checked his armor, made of drawn bronze wire that was so much easier to work with then iron, but it was in perfect shape, as it had stayed in the several months he hadn't wore it. He sighed and grabbed his sword that was set on a special rack had made just for it. The sword was his pride and joy, his greatest accomplishment since appearing in this world. The pommel and cross guard were made of bronze, with a leather wrapped wooden grip. The blade though was forged of a strange crystal he had found deep underground. It looked like sapphire, and it actually might be, but it behaved like a metal.

Out of simple curiosity, and the thought that he could make aluminum out of aluminum oxide, he had taken the crystal through his bloomery furnace, and what came out reminded him a lot of iron slag. After a good deal of trail and error, he had hammered out a material that acted like iron, but was dark blue and semi-transparent. A year later he had taken this "wrought sapphire" and turned into what he thought of as blue steel. He had also found ruby and emerald variants that he believed would be similar, but hadn't bothered with them yet. He liked blue after all.

Keith held the blue blade up to the light, still amazed at the way the light danced through the crystalline facets within. There was something hauntingly beautiful about it. It was slightly more brittle then iron, but that might be from his own lack of skill or technique. His sword, Ol' Blue, was in perfect condition, as was the scabbard, from lack of use. He sighed, and looked around the room again. There was nothing that needed doing in here.

He headed back outside and checked on the bloomery. It was still there, good enough. He doubted the spiders could make off with a hundred pounds of clay brick and charcoal anyway. Keith made his was to the animal farm he'd set up near the river running of the glacier. He checked his progress bar first, a wood post he had hammered into the ground when to check the movements of the glacier. It had been when he had begun to suspect that things weren't as they should be. A glacier in the real world should either advance or recede by a few inches a year. Sure enough though, it was in the _exact_ same position it had been two years ago when he had set the post up.

He shook his head. He seemed to be under the same effects as well. It didn't matter though. At least he didn't have to worry about cutting his hair, or shaving, thank god. He checked on his animals, cows, chickens, sheep, and pigs, which seemed to make up the entire ecosystem of this world. Unless the mobs ate the animals; he'd never actually figured that part out.

Everything looked in order though. The animals were healthy. There weren't too many of them, or too few, and he had a massive stockpile of uncooked food. So, aside from gathering some eggs there was nothing to be done here. He really didn't feel like being covered head to toe in cow blood anyway. Filling that damned bathtub was a bitch.

Keith circled back around the north side of his yard, to the actual farm. Being raised in Kansas had its advantages here. He had fields growing wheat, flax, corn, melons, among others. He would have killed to get some tomatoes though. He really missed the things, and home grown tomatoes where _so_ much better then store bought. He sighed.

Everything was good here too. Everything was growing, though faster then seemed reasonable. He had set up a nice irrigation system that bled water from the river, and stayed fertilized thanks to the cows being so close. So, nothing needed harvested, watered, or fertilized, and he had never seen a weed. He sighed.

He continued his circuit of his property, checking the last of his fence. There was no rot, no wear, no damage, as always. He meandered to the middle of the yard and flopped down in the grass. He watched as the sun made its slow climb over the ocean. He really had nothing to do. Well that wasn't technically true. He had plenty he could be doing, but nothing that actually needed to get done.

He pondered it all. Really, what was the point of it all? He hadn't seen another person in _four fucking years_. There were no people here anymore, just zombies. It wasn't like he had many friends back home either. He wondered if anyone had even noticed that he was gone. Then again, maybe he wasn't gone. Maybe he was just a copy of himself placed in this world as an experiment by something unthinkable. Maybe he was lying in a hospital bed in a coma, just waiting for someone to pull the plug. He wondered if anyone would argue on his behalf, since all people actually cared about was arguing these days.

_Ugh, just pull the damn plug, this sucks._

Then again, he had no way of knowing that time here was the same as time in the real world. He had made his own calendar by tracking the days and phases of the moon. He guessed that the Gregorian calendar had been built in much the same way. How could he know though that time moved at the same rate on both worlds? It certainly seemed to, but then again he had always had a distorted perception of time. Maybe it was too much time spent studying Relativity?

_Damn Einstein._

What was the point to it all? He'd built a house with his own hands, rediscovered at least some trappings of civilization. He wasn't just surviving, he was thriving. He wasn't _living_ though. He was just going through the motions, trying to stave off the inevitable collapse of his psyche.

_Why?_

Maybe that was why. Maybe he had failed to keep it together. After all, how many people could be thrown into a world with no technology and no one to talk to, and still be people? They say that the truest form of insanity is to keep doing the same thing over and over expecting to get different results. What did it say about him that kept doing the same thing over and over, expecting nothing to change?

_I could end it if I wanted to, it's not like I have anyone to worry about anymore._

He didn't have the pills anymore either, not that he actually took them. His mind strayed to the barrel of gunpowder then he'd collected from dead creepers.

_I'm not Tom Hanks after all. What am I afraid of? Nothingness… Fuck!_

He slapped himself and shook his head.

_Come on, what's wrong with you. We got over this shit after high school. Ugh, maybe I need a change of scenery._

That brought a slight smile to his face. Why not? He realized he had never actually explored beyond the valley. He'd never gotten more then a few hours in any direction. Who knows what could actually be out there. He also knew that the mobs, for whatever reason, couldn't sense him if they couldn't see him. Even a pane of glass seemed to block their senses. He still had his tent from the early days.

Keith made his way back to the workshop and started digging through his chests, some of which hadn't been touched in years. He quickly found his old tent. It was, obviously, made of leather, but he'd sewn it in a way meant it was sealed against the elements. Well, mobs at least, water was such squirrely stuff.

He started piling camping supplies and ran upstairs. He figured he'd follow the coast for three days and make his way back, just to see what was out there. If he found anything interesting he could pack more food and come back later. He grabbed several stacks of food trays, planning for seven days worth of meals just incase of stupidity, and piled them next to his other gear.

Finally, he grabbed his bag. His other most prized possession. It looked like nothing more then a simple messenger bag, fortunately made of plastic rather then leather. He'd bought it years ago to carry his laptop around college, but ended up getting more use of it hauling his RPG books and campaign notes.

It had been with him when he woke up here, but instead of his carefully crafted GURPS campaign, and the two hundred dollars of Forth Ed books he'd found something even more valuable, _nothing._ When he'd opened the bag, it looked like it went on forever, and sure enough when he'd reached in he'd managed to get up to his shoulder and felt nothing. His experiments over the years had proven to him one thing; it worked exactly like a Bag of Holding from D&D. So that's how he thought of it.

It was his one true connection to the real world, and infinitely useful at that. He looked out the window, and the sun was well past overhead already. He partly hated that he could get so lost in though that time could escape him so easily. It didn't matter though; there was plenty to waste here. He spent the rest of the day double checking equipment and supplies. Turned out he was shorter of arrows then he'd thought, so he could occupy himself doing that tonight and head out in the morning. Finally, something different, maybe something will change?


End file.
